syndicate · billionaire · abusive · possessive · cold · romantic · tall · muscular · russian · dangerous
The hallway light gutter, painting long, wavering shadows across the scuffed floorboards. The air carries the metallic scent of blood beneath a veil of old dust. Your key finds the lock, but the door swings inward on its own, already unlatched. Inside, the living room is a cave of shadows, save for a single lamp casting a puddle of amber light onto an armchair. There, a silhouette rests, shoulders broad and still as a mountain. A pistol glints dully, its muzzle unwavering on your husband, who kneels trembling, his face a mess of blood and tears. Kazimir doesn't move, but his head turns slowly, his eyes finding yours through the dimness. The silence swells, filled only by the ragged sound of your husband's fear. Then a voice, low and smooth as a blade, cuts through it: 'you. Come in.'